


Kras City Grand Championships

by LinbeeH



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Human Daxter, Kidnapping, M/M, ace writer avoids writing sex scenes, damas lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 10:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13006194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinbeeH/pseuds/LinbeeH
Summary: What could have been a nice vacation in a foreign city is derailed by a dead man's plot to ruin Daxter's good time.





	Kras City Grand Championships

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during Jak X: Combat Racing.

Kras City, the dazzling metropolis of lights and acid rain. Where rainbows of oil glitter in every gutter, and mafia-style crime is a national sport. It's the perfect city for the reading of a dead man's will, especially one as notorious as Haven City's dearly departed kingpin.

Kras wasn't left unaffected by the centuries-long war against the metal heads, but their primary target over the past decade had been Haven City. The precursor artifacts buried under the heart of Haven kept the creature's interest, allowing Kras the thrive with a small military.

Beneath this sheen however of prosperity and peace, Kras city was a hotbed of criminal activity. Murders, kidnappings, human trafficking, and enough drugs to keep everything moving and everyone happy.

Kras is a commercial city, one of luxury, leisure, entertainment and in Kras, everything is for sale. Fast cars, rich cuisine, designer fashion. Daxter was more excited to receive the invitation to Krew's funeral than he ever would've thought possible.

It was hard to begrudge him his pleasure. This would be Daxter's world debut since returning to his human form. He had money burning a hole in his pocket, and he was long overdue for a vacation.

"Once we set up in our hotel we can spend the night out on the town. Tess said there's a restaurant in Kras that serves raw poisonous eel in a way that doesn't kill you, but it tingles all over. I wanna eat that, but I want to be wearing new shoes while I eat it," Jak shook his head at his friend who excitedly poured over a city map, "I'm guessing you want to drive around the city before we do anything? That big racing tournament is starting soon, maybe we should stay in town and catch the opening ceremonies."

Jak had been smiling since before they left Spargus. He had more reasons to smile than he's had in a long time. Jak had been reunited with his father, Damas the former ruler of a city that he made his home. His current ruler, Sig is one of Jak's most trusted friends, and he's proud to follow his leadership.

The precursor's gift of light eco abilities, that had lightened the burden of the late baron's experiments, along with his time in the desert continued to heal the damage done during his years in Haven. Jak's scars were healing.

The war against the metal heads had ended, and Haven City had known an uninterrupted time of peace under the rule of baron Ashlin Praxis. After the council swore her in as ruler she appointed Torn as captain of the city guard. Torn and Ashlin were working to fix Haven City, together.

Jak's relationship with Daxter had also evolved after they fixed the first wrong that started their journey, Daxter was healed and human. Not a week passed after the transformation, sitting alone in each others space, Daxter closed the distance, holding Jak's face he leaned in and pressed their lips together. Jak felt like he hadn't stopped smiling since.

From the coast of the Spargus desert, Jak steered the Sand Shark onto the ferry to Kras City. After parking the car in its reserved space they toured the ship until Daxter, overcome with sea sickness insisted they sit and watch the horizon.

The duo hung their feet off the deck watching the waves of the Spargus oceans. Their friends in Haven City wouldn't be arriving until the day of the reading, but Daxter had convinced Jak to go early, not that it was difficult. They were both overdue a vacation.

-

Walking down the streets downtown Kras, Jak and Daxter were window shopping, when suddenly Daxter stops dead. In the window of a racer apparel shop, there's a mannequin wearing a breathtaking leather jacket.

The leather itself comes in navy blue or black, with fur pauldrons resembling his former orange. Once he makes it inside and discovers the red silk lining, Daxter's nearly in tears ready to pay any price. He leaves wearing the jacket and a blinding smile, occasionally crossing his arms to dip his fingers into the fur.

Kras City sparkles at night, even as storm clouds roll over the night sky. Jak drives them to the hotel's car garage, parking there to avoid the rain. The Sand Shark could be rather hydrophobic, it was never clear how much water was too much for the poor thing.

They walk to the restaurant where they share a bottle of white wine and tingling poisonous eel. The moment they take their seats, Jak hooks his leg around Daxter's under the table and they spend the entire meal privately entwined.

By the time they've finished their meal the skies have opened, unleashing a steady downpour. Daxter, having had more than his fair share of their wine, saddles up to Jak and links their arms together.

"Prepared for any occasion," Daxter says opening his red umbrella, Jak laughs. They walk back to the hotel, holding onto one another.

The hotel lobby is teaming with activity, damp tourists checking-in and struggling with their bags. Daxter folds and shakes out his umbrella, before linking his arm back through Jak's. Jak doesn't fight the smile that he finds so often accompanies the warm press of Daxter's body.

"I wonder how many of these people are here for the racing championships," Jak quietly ponders, as they make their way to the elevators.

"Leave it to Krew to schedule the reading of his will around a foreign city's busiest travel event. Sig's not coming, and part of you has to wonder how much avoiding tourists went into that decision."

Jak hums in thought as the elevator doors close them in. Daxter slips his arm out from Jak's to press the floor button, while Jak leans heavy against the wall of the compartment.

"Tired, big guy," Daxter asks crowding back into Jak's space.

"Wine makes me sleepy," Jak replies slipping a hand into Daxter's.

"That's one weakness I wouldn't mind our enemies knowing, imagine bottles of wine arriving in the mail."

"Worse things could arrive in the mail."

"That's what I'm saying," they were nearly on their level, and trusting the relative privacy of a closed elevator Daxter touches the far side of Jak's face, turning him into a lazy kiss.

Jak reaches for Daxter's cheek to change the angle, running his hand down around the back of his boyfriend's neck. They pull away when the elevator doors open into an empty hallway, Jak's hand landing on Daxter's fur-covered shoulder. He laughs in his silent way as Daxter walks into the hallway, pulling Jak by the hand behind him.

"What's so funny?"

"The jacket, the color is close, but your fur was softer."

There was something still novel about hearing Jak talk, a compliment could leave him stammering for hours, it was humiliating. Daxter was determined to reach a point where even the most benign comment wouldn't leave him flustered, but this wasn't it.

Daxter lets go of Jak's hand to lean on the door while Jak fishes through his pockets for the room key. The key turns noiselessly and Daxter reaches for the doorknob, backing into the room.

Through tall windows the rain-drenched city glitters below, creating enough light to see by. Jak follows his friend into the room, walking into Daxter's space to unzip his leather jacket.

His tunic underneath feels clammy against the cool air of the room. The sensation doesn't last long as Jak slips his hands under Daxter's jacket, smooths his palms around his friend's waist to the small of his back, then up his spine. The door clicks softly closed behind them as Jak rests his head against his boyfriend's fur-covered shoulder. Busy hands petting warm hidden skin.

Daxter holds Jak, slips a hand into his hair to gently scratch his scalp, presses his lips to the top of Jak's head. Jak pulls one of his hands out from the inner warmth of Daxter's jacket, brushes Daxter's hair away from his neck to press soft kisses to the tender skin there.

With his hand in Jak's hair, the redhead takes the opportunity to tug him away from his neck to kiss his lips. Jak sucks in a sharp breath, following the pull to keep the tug gentle, and Daxter rubs Jak's scalp with his fingers to silently sooth.

Jak doesn't like any kind of pain in bed, and even before they had that conversation Daxter was terrified of hurting him. After everything that happened in the prison, Daxter just wanted to keep Jak safe. Daxter, on the other hand, liked a little roughhousing.

Jak reaches a hand into Daxters hair and grabs a handful, he tugs back and Daxter follows his lead exposing his neck to be licked and kissed. Daxter sighs and lets out a contented hum, vibrating his throat under Jak's mouth.

It makes Jak huff a laugh, smiling kisses onto his boyfriend's neck.

"Jak," Daxter croaks, making Jak laugh, "I'm so tired," he whines, shrugging his jacket off and tossing it onto the couch tucked against the wall.

"Me too," they laugh sloughing off their boots, and leather clothing.

They change into the soft garments they packed to sleep in. Each taking turns in front of the bathroom mirror, Jak reminding Daxter to brush his teeth.

Daxter untucks the sheets from the bed and fluffs the blankets. He stretches over the covers hugging a pillow against his head, getting immediately comfortable. He starts to doze when suddenly there's a hand running up his back, into his hair and gently pulling, Daxter turns over to pull Jak down into a kiss.

"I love your soft hair," Daxter smiles, turning to hide his face in his hand, "It's true, Dax." Jak wraps his fingers around Daxter's wrist pulling the hand away from his face to press an indirect kiss to his palm.

"Come here," Daxter says, pulling Jak into his open arms. They rearrange under the blankets and fall asleep.

-

The reading is a death trap. Jak, Daxter, Torn, Ashlin, Keira, Samos, and even Rayn are poisoned by a solemn toast to the lost. Krew, even from the grave had a way of getting anyone to do whatever he wanted. In his video-will, Krew promised the antidote, provided they form a racing team in his honor and win the Kras City Grand Championship. They all agreed, it was that or die.

The Kras City Grand Championship was broken down into four rounds: The Red Eco Cup, Green Eco Cup, Blue Eco Cup, and the final Yellow Eco Cup. Each round took them to the two participating cities Spargus and Haven, before returning to Kras for the final round, followed by the Grand Prix races.

Samos becomes the team's self-appointed medic, though poisoned it was agreed he wouldn't race unless absolutely necessary. Keira also took a job outside of the driver seat, becoming the pit chief. She uses the resources she acquired from managing a racing team back in Haven to assemble a trustworthy crew. Rayn helps by keeping the money flowing, and Kras politics at bay.

Ashlin sent the bottle of poisoned wine to Haven City to be examined. Then ordered her people search for a cure, only to be informed of the impossibility of the request. She is the most vocally furious with the situation, and even Torn can't calm her down. He doesn't stop trying, however, convincing her to join him for regular combat training, and letting her vent her frustrations with violence.

After the reading of Krew's will Torn broke off to research the Grand Championships. He was aware of the races, meaning he knew more than some members of the team. The first thing they needed to do was fix that. He made a list of events each member of the team would be most suited for, finding few he felt confident volunteering for himself.

Once they arrive in Spargus for the first events, Sig hears about the poisoning he narrowly avoided. He leaves his kingdom to race for his friends lives. Sig requested Damas act as king in his absence, he did not demand, instead asking him as a friend. Damas was no racer, he wouldn't be able to help on the track, but his loyalty to Spargus was absolute and he accepted without hesitation. He did, however, insist on stepping down when Sig himself was in the city bounds, which Sig agreed to with good humor.

Damas, along with a team of monks researched the possibility of using light eco to cure the poison. He hoped in small part that it would be possible at least for Jak or Daxter whose bodies reacted differently to the substance.

In both Haven and Spargus, there were taskforces attempting to search for vials of the antidote to black shade poisoning through trade. It's a long-shot and no one's holding their breath, focusing instead on winning the race to earn the antidote Krew had hidden away.

-

One downside of the black shade poisoning, not to discount the most important downside of being poisoned, is that it doesn't kill you all at once, it makes you ill first.

In the morning the team usually woke up with a certain amount of lightheadedness, or nausea. Most meals would be followed by a more extreme nausea unless following a strict diet, and medicating before and after. No alcohol, tobacco, or recreational drugs could safely be consumed before an antidote had been working for one week at minimum.

Dehydration, which was a serious risk factor, could kill you before the poison got a chance. Members of the team dealing with the deadly hangover had to start carrying large water bottles that they had to refill multiple times a day.

With a weakened immune system they were all more susceptible to airborne bacteria, and infection. Samos advised everyone stay in the team headquarters, unless absolutely necessary. Which made everyone antsy.

The gearhead trio: Keira, Jak, and Daxter spent most of their time in the garage working on the machines or keeping the others company. Torn, Ashlin and Sig had daily meetings with representatives of their cities, and when the team had reason to be in the area they would use the opportunity to take meetings in person.

In the beginning, the sickness is easy to manage, but once they pass the halfway point and the Blue Eco Cup races begin, the lethargy becomes more acute. This makes choosing who races more about, who can do it, and not always about who's the best racer for the job.

With some exceptions, each racing event has a relevant limit to the number of racers allowed to enter from a single team. For the turbo dash, sport hunts, and freeze rallies each team is allowed two racers. In death races and during rush hour only one member from each team is allowed on the track. Artifact races and circuit races have no limits.

During deathmatches and capture events, three-person teams are mandatory, meaning a team with less than three racers forfeits the match. Everyone collectively hopes they don't reach that point.

Ashlin and Torn are the two top-ranked racers in the sport hunt. Torn was the best they had for rush hour events, it was almost terrifying how much it cheered him up to run one. Daxter dominated the turbo dash, claimed his experience piloting missiles made him overqualified to steer a turbo-charged vehicle.

Jak, Ashlin, and Sig were proficient in nearly every event, and they were the team's representatives in deathmatches. Torn, Daxter, and eventually Rayn made up their second string. In their specialties the team was one of the best, running neck and neck against Mizo's racers, and the other teams from around the world.

They take gold in the Blue Eco Cup Grand Prix, securing a spot in the Yellow Eco Cup finals. The team gathers to celebrate the victory as they did after every Grand Prix, but the poison had drained them of their zeal.

It's during the celebration, looking at her worn out team that Keira announces to the crew that she'd be racing under their banner in the Yellow Eco Cup. Their chances were the best they'd ever been, and victory was on the horizon when someone gets a terrible idea.

-

Daxter spent the morning with Keira at the training arena, open only to championship racers. He was tired and daydreamed the whole time about being home and in bed with Jak. The rain in Kras City was a depressing sight and tended to slick the roads enough to make the arena difficult to train in.

"That's your worst time today, Daxter. Why don't you head back to HQ and get some sleep, we can pick back up tonight," Keira says through the comm.

He was anxious about the upcoming turbo dash in Spargus. He wanted it to go well and was prepared to train as much as he could before then, but Keira was right. He was exhausted and couldn't keep his focus.

"Okay, okay. You staying here or do you wanna walk back together?"

"I'm staying, Ashlin's meeting me here in an hour and I want to get some practice in before then."

"Alright, I'll see you later tonight."

"See ya!"

Daxter's leaving the training arena when someone approaches him in broad daylight, hidden in the crowd of fans that always swarmed around the practice arena. His umbrella kept him hidden well enough and forced a certain amount of personal space as he made his way through the crowd. He felt someone grab his arm and before he could brush them off there's a sharp pain in his side, and everything swirls into black.

-

Daxter wakes up tied to a chair, sitting across from a woman smoking a cigarette. His head is spinning and the lights of the room are painfully bright. There's a terrible taste in his mouth from whatever they stuck him with and he spits on the floor beside him.

"Hello, Daxter," the woman says when he blinks awake, "I wondered how long you'd be out. The chem we used doesn't usually leave someone out for so long."

His hands are tied behind him. He looks around the room, his eyes adjusting to the light. Behind the sitting woman were three guards. They all had guns and were dressed similarly in utilitarian clothing. He recognized one of the big guys.

"Aren't you that racer Lazlo? I've seen you during freeze rallies. This is your day job, bud? Kidnapping? What would your fans think," Lazlo doesn't show any sign of having heard Daxter when the smoking woman speaks again.

"Yes, you are correct! This is Lazlo, while he does not race for Mizo's team, he is one of Mizo's men. You can call me, Ida if you'd like, and just like that we're all acquainted."

Daxter stared, he felt nauseous and he couldn't tell if it was the poison or the situation causing it.

"We've been hired by Mizo to bring you in, ask you a few questions, and hopefully send you on your way."

"If he wanted an interview he could've called."

"He believes that you would have a certain amount of reluctance to answer the questions he has for you."

"Does he now? Lay one on me, sister. What do I know that Mizo doesn't?"

Ida flicks her cigarette into the room behind Daxter.

"What is the baron of Haven City doing racing on your team?"

"Pass," Ida huffs a laugh.

"Alright. What is the king of Spargus doing racing on your team?"

"Pass."

"You'll have to answer one of these eventually, Daxter."

"We'll see."

"I guess we will," Ida pats her hands against her thighs before standing up. She walks over to Lazlo and pats his arm. He nods and walks over to stand next to Daxter, who looks on in anxious discomfort.

"What was your relationship to Krew? Why were you invited to the reading of his will?"

"This one I can answer. See, Krew's my father. He adopted me when I was very young and raised me to follow in his footsteps. I never could though, I loved musical theater too much to give it up. As you can imagine that made for a tense relationship-" the punctuation of his final sentence was a ringed fist slamming into his face.

He shouts in pain.

"Do you want to try that one again," Ida asks. Daxter was breathing heavy, the ring cut his cheek where it landed, deep enough to bring out blood.

"Y-yes. Yes. I said he adopted me, but he never filed the paperwork. Technically I'm a ward of the state," Lazlo hit him again, in the same spot, "Fuck! You hit like a lurker dog!"

"Do you want to take this seriously?"

"Absolutely I do not," right on time Lazlo struck his cheek.

"Have it your way," Ida leaves the room and the guards follow, leaving Daxter alone with Lazlo who lands blow, after vicious blow against his face.

After some time Ida returns with her guards, one of them carrying a camera, and the other had a large poster board. Daxter's face was bleeding, bruises already beginning to form.

"Smile for the camera, Daxter! Can you see out of that eye? Read the sign."

Daxter leans forward, the sign is a script for a ransom video. Oh wonderful, all his team had to do to get him released was back out of the Kras City Grand Championship. That way he could die with all of his friends out there, instead of alone in some dungeon surrounded by muscled henchmen.

"Ida, you're not going to believe this, but I've forgotten how to read," Lazlo hit him.

"Did that help?"

"Gods, it did, it did... I remember now, I never learned to read."

"Alright, hit him again Lazlo. Camera roll, I'll read it. Daxter keep your mouth shut or I'll put a gag in your mouth."

"Yes, ma'am."

"At eleven o'clock this afternoon, racer Daxter was taken from the steps of the Kras City practice arena. Unless your team forfeits the Grand Championship and leaves Kras City, we will kill him. After receiving this message we will call your racing headquarters with further instructions.

"Is there anything you want to add, Daxter?"

Daxter spits at Lazlo off camera before replying.

"Oh, now I can talk?"

"Use it wisely."

"Hey, Torn. I'm the one that spilled rice all over the counter last week, and then I never cleaned it up. I also told everyone you did it," Ida motioned for the camera to stop rolling.

"You're a fucking moron."

"Don't swear, Ida."

Ida lit a cigarette and left the room with everyone, leaving Daxter alone for the first time. He squirms trying to loosen the ropes enough to slip through, but it would take time.

Lazlo returns with one of the guards, who takes her place by the door. The racer silently approaches Daxter, makes a show of cracking his knuckles.

"Lay it on me, you fucking animal," Daxter spits at his face.

-

Daxter awakens to the sound of moving furniture. He glances up to see Ida pull a chair to sit across from him, she dusts it off and sits down. Daxter spits at her because of course he does, but it lands on the floor in front of him.

This far he's only been roughed up. His nose was definitely broken, but not bleeding anymore. The blood inside clotted and he'd been breathing through his mouth since it happened.

Speaking of that ever-active gob, his bottom lip was cut pretty deep. It bled for a while and by all accounts, it should've made the spit takes a lot worse for everyone, but after he started tasting blood his spitting all but stopped entirely.

He didn't feel right possibly poisoning these goons. Not spitting his poisoned blood at them was the least he could do really. He wasn't going to stop bleeding and they weren't going to stop hitting. Call it empathy for the plight of a man on limited time. The spitting had always been more about the disrespect than the gross-out factor anyway. 

Ida said his name, snapping him out of his dizzy thoughts.

"Lazlo's championship ring cut your face up pretty badly, scarred some of that soft tissue. Your cheek and your left eye look like they got the worst of it.

"Daxter," she said again, but she had his undivided attention, "A few days of green eco treatments and maybe a week for your nose, you'll be fine by the finals. If we stop this now."

"Sounds great. You wanna cut me free or you could just hand me a knife and I'll get these ropes off," the talking calmed him down. It has always calmed him down.

When they're going at it, he knew it was possible to hit him enough that he'd stop talking, as Lazlo too discovered.

"Daxter."

"Stop saying my name."

She stared him down, then stood. Moving to stand beside her chair, Ida removed the gun from her holster and handed it to one of her guards. Then she took out a knife.

"Daxter, listen. You're a hostage," she gestured to him with the knife, "it's in my best interest to keep you alive for as long as you're needed. I'm not going to kill you, alright? This doesn't have to end with a bullet.

"What we're doing in here Daxter, this is just for you, and for us. Tell us what we want to know," Ida picked up the chair and moved it into Daxter's space.

"Ida, you are going to die. There is no doubt in my mind. If the ransom works and they quit the race, they're going spend the rest of their lives hunting you down. If they stay in the race, and you kill me? Honey, we're talking about the fiery wrath of the gods."

Ida nodded, sighed.

"Let me worry about your friends, Daxter," she sat in the chair, crowded close to him, "You need to stay worried about yourself." In a blink of motion, she stabbed the knife into Daxter's leg.

He can't help, but let out a shout of pain. The muscle of his thigh feels impossibly tense around the intrusion, and his eyes begin watering right away. His brain is white hot agony, but then she smacks his face.

"Daxter, pay attention," she doesn't give up her smacks until he looks her in the eye, "What is your team doing in Kras City? How did you know Krew?"

He gasps for air, clenches his jaw shut.

"Don't go into shock, Daxter, we've just gotten started. I haven't even sent the ransom yet," he can't hold back a sob from the pain, and then she grabs his thigh.

He cries out, dizzy from the intensity, but she presses on undisturbed.

"What's the baron's business in this race? Why is she racing with the king of Spargus? What do you know about Rayn?" He shakes his head, gasping for air.

"I-I'll b-be here all night, s-sugar... pacing is impor-important," he stutters out.

Ida makes a face, nods, grabs the handle of the knife and pulls it out. She stands up and pulls her chair away, then makes her way to the guard holding her gun. They exchange words out of earshot, while she returns the gun to her shoulder holster. The guard motions to Lazlo who closes in on Daxter.

"He's going to make us work for it boys, call me if he passes out again," Ida calls to her men. Then she nods to Lazlo and leaves the room before the first hit.

-

Daxter has no idea how long they'd been at it before he lost consciousness the first time. The windows of the room he wakes up in are floor to ceiling providing an obstructed view of a neighboring skyscraper. It's night, and still raining so he figures it's probably the same day. The room itself is empty except for himself, and he can see a closed door to one side. He's still tied to a chair, so that's not great.

As his brain comes into focus his eyes start watering from the pain of his face. There's a tight bandage on his thigh where Ida had stabbed him and he could see the blood already soaking through it. He coughs and tries out his voice, but his throat is so dry the sounds he makes are hoarse croaks.

"Is someone there," he asks the room behind him when he gets no response he tests the wiggle room of his restraints. They must have retied him after he passed out because the space he'd fought for was cinched back.

Leaving him with the same few inches of give he started with: loose enough for circulation, but tight enough to keep him bound.

He tries to wriggle out of the rope tying him to the chair but doesn't make a lot of progress when a noise behind him startles him still. He hears a doorknob and footsteps before Ida comes into view with two familiar looking guards behind her.

Ida pulls out her knife and it takes everything not to flinch at the slight, then she leans down and cuts the restraints on his wrist. Her guard hands her two bottles of water, and she puts one in Daxter's hand.

"Thirsty," she asks, and god damn it, he was.

Daxter drops the bottle and reaches for her gun, as his fingers touch the handle a hard fist slams into his face. Ida recoils from him, and keeping her distance she clicks open her bottle of water.

"You are unbelievable," she takes a drink of water, slipping her knife back into the holster on her belt. The guard that didn't hit him picks up the bottle he dropped and hands it to him.

"Drink your water, Daxter, we called your team they want proof of life," he slumps back holding the water bottle in one hand, trying to think of a way to get out of the chair.

She said they called, so the team knows for sure he's gone at least. It's a small comfort. He opens the water and drinks half of it at once. Ida takes the communicator off of her belt and walks over to Daxter.

"Ah, ah, ah," she tuts putting her hand over the handle of her pistol, "No funny business." She holds out her communicator for him to take, which he does.

"They have your communicator so calling a number that only you have should be proof enough. Who's it gonna be, Daxter? King of Spargus? The cute mechanic?"

Ida's communicator was custom made, and the video capabilities were shut off, but hearing Jak's voice would do wonders for his fraying nerves. He dials the number and the communicator rings twice before someone picks up. Ida plucks the device out of his hand before he can hear anything.

"Hey fuck you, lady," he shouts and the same guard as before knocks him in the face. The guard that handed him the water yanks it out of his hands to pull his arms behind him and bind his wrists together. Daxter co-operates with her in an attempt to create a little wiggle room in the ropes.

"Hello, who am I speaking to? ... Jak? Well, there you have it, your proof of life! You have until morning to announce your team's forfeit, once you have, and we can confirm that it's official we'll release your friend." She holds out the communicator to pick up Daxter's voice, "Say goodbye, Daxter!"

"Don't quit the race," he's cut off by the blunt smack of another punch, and Daxter's face is so tender he can't hold back a small cry. He hopes the device isn't sensitive enough to pick that up.

"He loves testing our patience," she hangs up and pats the bandage on his leg, and he's glad Jak can't hear the shout it causes, "You did great."

Daxter leans forward as much as he can, panting from the pain. He's careful not to show off, but he can tell the rope around wrists is looser than when they first came in. If he takes his time, he might be able to wiggle out. The group leaves without saying anything, and he listens unsure if he's really alone.

"Can I have the water," he asks and listens for an answer.

"Well if there is someone back there, they're about to get an eyeful," he thinks.

He twists and pulls at the restraints around his wrist until he's able to get enough space in the rope to pull a hand through. After his first-hand pulls free he lets the rope fall to the floor behind him.

Reaching for the restraints tying him to the chair he pulls at the knot until it comes apart and the rope comes off around him.

He'd done it. Now he had to get out. He stands up for the first time in hours, and he can feel his heartbeat in the wound on his thigh. With the pain, it's more comfortable to limp and keep the weight off of the wounded leg, but he'd be able to run if it came to it.

He picks up the chair, and quietly as he can he limps to the door they left through and props the back of it against the doorknob. After a moment he risks turning the lock, which clicks quietly into place. It won't hold them off, but he'd hear them coming.

He surveys the room, walking to the window first of all. They were on a high floor of a skyscraper facing a twin building. Daxter's able to look down over the city streets for the first time, leaning close enough to the window to see his breath on the surface. He doesn't recognize any shop faces down below, and they're too high for him to read any of the street signs. He'd have to reach an elevator or staircase to get out of the building and they'd know that.

He walks to the second door, and carefully opens it unsure who or what might be on the other side. It's a bathroom to his relief and he walks in locking the door behind himself. He catches the sight of his face in the mirror and reaches for the faucet of the sink to clean some of the blood off of his face. They turn with no resistance and not even a drop of water comes out.

He can't believe it, what the hell building were they in that doesn't have running water? There's a linen closet on the far side of the bathroom and when he opens it he finds his way out.

A small grate separates this room from the next and he climbs into the closet, closing the door behind him. He has to brace a leg against the wall to pull the vent cover off, and it's not exactly quiet. Worried that someone already heard he kicks the vent on the opposite side out, and tries to catch it before it rattles against the floor.

He crawls through into another closet, this one in the adjacent room's bathroom. Leaving the lights off he creeps to the room door and carefully opens it. He hasn't heard any shouting, but keeping quiet is the safe move. The room is furnished with a single cot against the far wall. One of the mafiosos must be sleeping here.

At the head of the cot, there's a bag of clothing and Daxter takes the opportunity to scavenge for something that could help him escape. There's a magazine, a few bottles of water which he helps himself to, a flask, a few changes of clothing. No guns, no knives, not even a sharp stick.

He opens one of the bottles of water and pours some onto one of the clean shirts he pulled from the bag, wiping it against his face to clean some of the blood off. The damp fabric is cool and it soothes the pain when he has it pressed to his face, but he doesn't linger. There are ice packs and green eco back in the garage. He finishes the bottle of water and hides the garbage and bloodied shirt back in the bag.

Daxter moves to the room vent, it was smaller than the ones in the bathroom, but he'd make it work. He has his leg braced against the wall, about to pull the grate off when he sees a communicator plugged into an outlet beneath the cot. He scrambles over to it, checking the battery life. It was low, but if there's electricity in the building he'd be able to find somewhere to plug it back in.

He takes the whole setup, wrapping the cord around itself and stuffing it into his jacket pocket. He turns the communicator off, not wanting to risk it going off while stealthing through the building. Then returns to the vent.

"This is going well," he thinks right before he hears a shout from the hall.

"The prisoner escaped, he's locked himself in the room!"

"Well shit."

-

"There has to be something we can do," it's not the first time Jak has said that in the past hour.

"I have my people looking, Jak, but Kras is an enormous city. Hell, we can't even confirm they're holding him within its bounds," Rayn rubs at her damp forehead.

She was probably their best chance of finding Daxter. Her connections in the city and the team's unanimous decision to spare no expense in the search had yet to turn up anything viable.

"We've eliminated a number of possible sites, but without a solid lead we are hunting in the dark."

"They took him from the arena at least five hours ago, that's enough time to put a lot of distance between us and them," Sig says, keeping his attention on Jak while stating the unfortunate fact.

"If only they had left a calling card, I might have been able to do something with that," Rayn laments. "There is simply nothing more I can do until my people turn something up."

"Then let's hold tight, keep searching. Maybe Daxter can get us something the next time they call," Sig says.

Jak is pacing, trying to keep a level head. "The next time they call," what a call it was. Daxter was alive, at least, getting hell beaten out of him, but still breathing. Jak knew he was tougher than he looked.

Any information they managed to knock loose would undoubtedly put them all at risk, but Jak couldn't help the private hope that Daxter was co-operating, telling them what they wanted to hear, and staying safe. A hope Daxter himself all but dashed when he shouted his parting words.

Everyone on the team, including Daxter himself, understood the futility of forfeiting the championship. Which meant they had until sunrise if they wanted to find Daxter alive.

"Thanks, Rayn," Jak sighs, distraught, "I'm going for a drive, call me if anything changes."

He's not past the threshold of the room when his communicator rings and vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out and reads another unknown number before accepting the call.

"Hello?"

"Jak," he recognizes Daxter's voice immediately, even whispering.

"Holy shit, Daxter," Sig and Rayn turn their attention to the call moving closer to Jak as he returns to the room. Sig calls to the others that they had Daxter on the line, and Keira is the first to arrive.

"Hey, babe. I don't know how much time I got here. I stole this communicator, but the battery's almost dead. I can stop to charge it later, but I've got to keep moving for now."

Jak switches the device to speaker as the others arrive.

"Dax, do you know where you are?"

"Some office building or apartment complex or something. Is Rayn there? Ask her if this sounds familiar: tall tower, elevator says it's got 40 floors, electricity, but no running water, one side of the building faces a neighboring white skyscraper."

Rayn had her computer open and was dictating the description to the leader of the search party. She worked with her people to narrow down possible locations.

"Daxter, this is Rayn. What else can you see out of the windows, are there any more landmarks you can describe?"

"Stand by," there was a muffling sound and then silence for a full minute before Daxter returned. "Sorry, I maybe should've turned this thing off to do that. I had to get across the hall, but there are guys on this floor with me."

"Don't worry about it, Dax, stay safe," Jak said, he had been worried, but that wasn't Daxter's fault.

"Shit, the ocean? Is that helpful? The tower should be behind me from here, so yeah. Some roads, a field, and then the ocean."

"Are there any docks?"

"None I can see."

"Daxter, I may know where you are."

"Rayn, you beautiful-" the call cuts out, and Jak checks the device worried he hung up by mistake. Without thinking he interfaces with his communicator to call the number back, but Sig reaches a hand out to stop him.

"Daxter said there are men on the floor with him, he'll call us when it's a good time," Jak nods, grateful for Sig's quick thinking.

"Rayn, you said you know where he is?"

"I said I may know, it will take some time for my men to confirm."

"In the meantime, everyone that's going I suggest you gear-up! We leave the second we have a destination," Sig smacks a hand to Jak's shoulder, squeezes it in comfort. "The kid practically rescues himself, huh?"

-

The thing about the building's stairwells was that if he was careful Daxter could sneak his way up or down the tower while still being able to hear the heavy clamor of Ida's approaching crew. The downside of the stairwells was undoubtedly the stairs.

The pain in this thigh made the descent unbearable. Every so often he had to do the careful work of checking a floor for men, to slip out and catch his breath. The bandage over the wound was soaked through with blood and felt pretty disgusting, but he kept it on until the opportunity to replace it arose.

Cracking open the door into the stairwell he recently left, Daxter could hear loud footsteps approaching. He quickly ducked back into one of the rooms of the floor. His heart was racing, and he struggled to breathe quietly through his mouth.

In rare form, the room was furnished, and Daxter made use of his surroundings, folding himself under the desk. There was an outlet on the floor and he plugged in the communicator's charger. He heard voices in the hall outside of the office, but eventually, they faded down the hall.

He searched the desk drawers, but save for a few pens and paperclips it was emptied out, then he spotted the bathroom. Affixed to the wall was a green first aid kit, there was no eco salve or antibacterial, but there was a roll of gauze, enough to replace his bandage.

He turned on the light and locked the door, with shaking hands he peeled off the soiled bandage and tossed it aside. The wound looked bad, really bad, disgusting in fact. He used the last of the water to clean the blood away and pulled his ankle to bend his knee and wrap a strip of gauze around his leg. He had to hold it on until he could turn off the bathroom light and make his way back to the desk for a paperclip.

Daxter's back under the desk when suddenly the lights of the office switch on. It terrifies him, and he listens carefully, he hadn't heard the door open. Seconds pass before he hears the sound of boots scuffing the floor in the room behind him.

He covers his mouth, and waits hopes whoever it is, turns around and leaves. The hope is vain as suddenly the desk is flipped over him, exposing him to the room. Daxter turns in time to see Lazlo swing a foot to his face.

The pain is immense, knocking the wind out of him, and he falls prone. Before he can recover enough to move away the man is on top of him, pressing a knee to his chest and surrounding his neck with his hands.

Daxter claws at his face trying to gouge his eyes, but the racer is larger than him and holds him back. He can't do enough damage to weaken his stranglehold. Panicking Daxter scrambles his hands to the side of him groping for anything to use as a weapon. The second he catches hold of something he uses his remaining strength to slam it into the man's head, using the shock of the impact to roll him off.

Daxter gasps for painful wheezing breaths, finally able to breathe again. The wounded man stirs, only disorientated from the hit, but before he can catch a second wind Daxter slams the glass paperweight back down onto his head, hard enough to fracture his skull.

He drops the globe and searches Lazlo for weapons. He finds the dead man's gun and yanks it from its holster. He's checking the ammunition stores and switching the safety off when suddenly his communicator surges alive with Ida's voice.

"Lazlo! Lazlo, respond! I have you on my map, and I'm heading towards your location. The missing communicator is on your level! Have you found the hostage?" Daxter scoops up the communicator, clearing his throat before pressing the button to respond.

"Hiya, Ida," it comes out painfully hoarse, and he rubs his throat to sooth the pain enough to gloat.

"Daxter! Why do you have Lazlo's communicator?"

"He left it to me in his will. The moron should've just shot me."

"I'll try not to make the same mistake," she says, slamming her communicator off.

Daxter begins moving out of the room and quickly dials Jak's number who picks up on the first ring.

"Dax! What happened you cut out?"

"Sorry babe, the communicator died. I'm short on time here. The thing got smashed and I can't keep this one, 'cause Ida's tracking it. I'll grab another if I can, but this might be it for a while."

"Don't take any risks, I'm almost to the building."

"Jak, that is great news," the audio changes as Daxter makes his way back into the stairwell. "Don't worry about me, I'm a notorious coward. I'd hide in a bread box if I fit anymore."

"Liar," Jak says, Daxter takes a deep breath.

"I love ya, but we're pushing it. I'll see you soon, Jak. Give 'em hell!"

"You too," with that Daxter shuts off the call and throws the communicator down the stairs, then makes his way up.

The kidnappers were a team of a dozen or more hired guns, in a forty-story tower they couldn't guard every floor. A few members of Ida's team combed the many stairwells of the building while the others searched for Daxter floor, by floor.

The stairs were silent when he entered, but suddenly they were booming with the sound of heavy footfall. Daxter had to get out of the stairway, which meant he'd have to pick a floor and stick with it. He climbs the stairs as quietly and quickly as he can.

"Daxter!" Ida's voice rings through the stairwell, followed by frighteningly close gunfire. He takes that as his queue to leave, pushing through the first door he sees.

The floor isn't empty instead one of Ida's men spot him entering the hall.

"Shit," Daxter opens fire, on the single man to cover him as he rushes into a room of the floor.

He closes the door and presses his back against the wall beside it. The door opens over him and he listens to the man walk into the room.

Daxter kicks the door closed and as the man turns, startled, Daxter shoots him in the chest and he falls to the floor. Daxter rushes over, kicking the gun out of his hand.

The hired gun squirms, bleeding out on the floor and begins to call for help, but Daxter covers his mouth.

"Hey, hey, buddy. Shut up," Daxter sticks the stolen gun in his face, "Have you got any first aid?"

The young man nods, and Daxter slams the gun across his face. He goes limp and Daxter searches his pockets. Finding a small jar of green eco salve he wastes no time, pulling the bandage on his leg away to pour some on his knife wound. The relief is immediate, it doesn't close the wound, but it'll make running easier.

He collects the kidnapper's gun and he's about to leave when he makes the mistake of looking back. The man bleeding out looks young, and Daxter curses himself for it, but he can't leave the kid to die alone on the floor of an abandoned building.

He uses his fingers to scrape the jar for the remnants of eco clinging to the sides and smears it over the bullet hole. The bleeding noticeably slows and with a clear conscious Daxter books it out of the room.

He makes it halfway down the hallway when the door of the stairwell slams open and Ida herself appears. She manages to get off a few shots before he returns fire, forcing her to duck back. One of her bullets shoots through his gut and he presses a hand against it to slow the bleeding.

Daxter lunges into another furnished room. Then closes the door and flips a wooden table over to create some cover. Footsteps thunder through the hallway and he can hear her team clearing the rooms leading to his.  
When the door opens he fires a few rounds into the drywall of the hallway, missing the kidnappers but forcing them back.

"Let's talk, Daxter!"

"I'm through talking to you, lady!"

"Have it your way," the table splinters above his head as she opens fire into the room. He returns a few shots, but his ammunition is limited.

Daxter's heart is racing, he reminds himself that all he has to do is hold out long enough for his team to arrive. When suddenly the bullets stop coming, and he hears Ida address someone in the hallway.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Language, Ida," Daxter calls, but she doesn't respond. Instead, a shot goes off and Ida falls into the doorway.

He doesn't hesitate at the opportunity and fires a round into her head. His stomach twists at the sight. Daxter retakes cover, as more gunfire is exchanged in the hall.

"Daxter," it's Jak's voice and tears well up at the sound.

"I-I'm in here," Daxter stutters out and stays behind the table, as Jak enter's the room looking for his friend.

"Dax?"

"Down here," he says and Jak rushes into sight. Before they can exchange greetings Jak is surrounding Daxter in his arms, reaching a hand around his head to pull him in.

Daxter hisses a breath when his tender face comes into contact with Jak's. He pulls away to look Jak in the eyes.

"Hey buddy, good timing. How'd you find me up here," his eyes are watering and Jak reaches a hand to gently wipe away some tears.

"I heard gunfire in the stairway. Daxter, your face."

"This? It's all on the surface, gimme a week," but it doesn't alter the frown on Jak's face, "This on the other hand," Daxter pulls back his jacket to reveal the bullet wound on his stomach.

"Shit!"

Jak pulls a container of green eco out of his belt and hands it to Daxter, who begins opening it immediately. Jak then pulls out his communicator and dials Keira's number.

"Keira, I found Daxter, but he needs a medic! Take Samos to the lobby, and I'll meet you there."

"I'm on it," Keira says before deactivating the call.

"Dax, can you walk?"

"I can, but not fast," he says pointing to the bloody bandage on his leg. Jak nods and wraps an arm around his friend, as carefully as he can he lifts Daxter into his arms.

"Keep the pressure on your stomach."

"This ain't my first rodeo, babe," Jak nods and steps over Ida's body, into the hallway.

"I took the stairs up, do you know where the elevators are?"

"They should be that way," Daxter says, trying not to look at the corpses in the hall.

His head is spinning and he rests it against the arm he has wrapped around his friend's shoulder, keeping an eye out for anyone trying to sneak up on them.

They're nearly to the elevators when Daxter's vision starts to blur, his eyelids are heavy and he fights to keep them up. Jak jostles him, and he gasps back to attention.

"You've gotta stay awake, Dax."

"I know, I know," he mumbles, but his eyes drift closed again and that's the last thing he remembers from the skyscraper.

-

When Daxter wakes up he's in the infirmary of the team's Kras City headquarters. The lights are dimmed, and the door is closed. He turns his head, searching the room and sees Jak sitting in the corner reading a small book.

"Hey there, handsome. Good read," he asks, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"Dax," Jak gasps, standing up and tossing the book onto the chair behind him. He takes a few steps to the bed, reaching for the pitcher of water on the side table to pour Daxter a glass, "Drink this."

Daxter reaches for it, but when he moves his arm the alien feeling of an IV makes his skin crawl. He takes it with his other hand, and Jak helps him sit up on the bed.

"Did the Yellow Cup races start," Daxter asks, panic in his voice. Jak smiles, of course, that's what Daxter asks, and he shakes his head.

"No, but you've been out for a couple of days. We're taking the ferry to Spargus tomorrow for the opening ceremonies," Daxter closes his eyes and lets out a slow breath of relief.

"Good," he says and hands the empty glass to Jak who refills it.

"You've got to keep drinking, you were dehydrated when we got you here," Daxter nods and takes the glass.

Jak pulls a chair over to sit next to the bed. They sit in silence as Daxter slowly empties the glass.

"I'm doing my race at the temple," Daxter says as Jak rests the cup on the end table. He expects an argument, but Jak nods instead.

"Okay."

"Really, no fight? You going soft on me, Jak?"

He means it as a joke, but Jak puts a hand over his and looks him in the eye. The expression on his faces makes Daxter regret teasing him, ignoring the IV he reaches a hand into Jak's hair.

"Hey," he says, and Jak lets himself be pulled up into a hug, carefully wrapping an arm around Daxter's back. "Hey, I'm alright. You saved me, buddy, you got me out."

Jak smooths a hand along his boyfriend's back, as Daxter scratches his head.

"Oh, man. I'll never get use to this short hair of yours," Daxter says and kisses his cheek. He smooths his hand down Jak's neck to his shoulder and pushes down to signal him to sit back, "Have you got anything to eat, babe? I'm starving."

Jak smiles at Daxter and leaves to get Samos as well as something his friend can eat. Daxter spends the rest of the night in the infirmary.

-

The following morning the team leaves Kras City to sail to Spargus, where the first five events of the Yellow Eco Cup are being held. When their ship arrives the team is surprised to see Damas waiting for them, along with a number of heavily armed wastelanders, most of whom Jak recognizes as royal guards.

"Damas," Sig calls, greeting his former king with a firm handshake, "You didn't have to escort us to the arena!"

"I suppose not, my King, but after hearing about the abduction of one of your teammates the added security seemed prudent," Sig smacks Damas' arm, and shakes his shoulder slightly.

"I appreciate the caution."

Damas bows his head, leaving Sig to speak with the guards, before approaching Jak and Daxter.

"Daxter, I am relieved to see you alive."

"Thanks, pops, I'm pretty pleased myself. It's good to be back in the wasteland!"

"Will you be racing in the turbo dash at the precursor temple tomorrow?"

"It's my event, in my temple. What kind of precursor would I be if I didn't?"

Damas barks a surprised laugh, slapping a hand on Daxter's shoulder.

"A fine point! Come, I will be escorting you personally."

"Damas, you don't have to," Jak begins, but Damas raises a hand to stop him.

"I insist, Jak. Your safety is... It is important that you both remain safe, during your time in Spargus," Jak smiles at his father, and nods his thanks.

Samos had given Daxter a cane, and a stern warning that if he didn't use it the healing would take longer. Hoping to avoid spending any more time than necessary with the eco sage, Daxter took it in stride. He struggled to carry his bag, but when Jak reached to take it he slapped his hand away.

"I've got it, I've got it," Jak rolled his eyes, but Damas reached out a hand and took the bag from Daxter, which made him bluster from embarrassment.

The former king ignored the protests. Simply stating that in Spargus you help the wounded when you could, and accept help when offered. That made Daxter shut his mouth, but not happily.

They share a vehicle to the team's Spargus HQ, Jak sitting in the passenger seat without question. When they arrive, Damas again carries Daxter's bag. Jak offers Daxter a hand climbing out of the back seat, and he begrudgingly accepts. They keep holding hands as they make their way inside.

"That is quite a jacket, Daxter," Damas observes, small talk wasn't his strong suit.

"Thanks, I got it in Kras. I got blood on the silk though," he says letting go of Jak's hand to hold the jacket open, revealing a nasty brown stain.

"Better suited for the wasteland that way," Damas replies, and Daxter laughs.

"Oh man, that's hysterical!"

"I didn't mean it to be," he says, looking to Jak who was silently laughing at him.

Jak asks Damas to join them for lunch, and he accepts the invitation. Daxter has to excuse himself, however, exhausted from the trip. Jak walks him to their room, leaving his father to wait in the lounge.

"Don't forget to stay hydrated while I'm gone, it's important in the desert."

"I'll drink some water now, but the second you leave I'm going to sleep," Daxter says sitting down on the bed.

He starts taking his shoes off, but the pain in his thigh makes it difficult to bend over. Jak moves in front of him, kneeling down to help. Daxter wants to protest, but he sighs and rests a hand on Jak's shoulder instead.

"Thanks."

Jak looks up and Daxter leans forward to kiss him.

"Drink water," Jak says.

"Ugh! Romance Jak, it's not just a genre."

"My father's waiting for me down the hall, let's save the romance for later."

"I'm going to hold you to that, buddy," Daxter says leaning over to pepper Jak's face with quick kisses, "Go, go. Don't make the king wait."

"He's retired," Jak says, softly pinching Daxter's arm.

Jak stands up to go and Daxter sits up long enough to finish his bottle of water before laying down and falling asleep.

-

"No!" Daxter gasps awake. There's a hand on him, and he smacks it away reaching over to the end table for a weapon. The room's dark and before he can find something the hand is on him again.

"Stop!" he shouts, swinging an elbow at his attacker who blocks it with their hand.

"Dax, hey! It's me, it's me, buddy," Jak says, but Daxter's heart is racing and he scrambles out of bed.

His leg hurts, but he rushes to the door to flick the lights of the room on. When he does he sees Jak sitting on the bed and deflates, panting for breath. He leans against the wall and slides down to sit on the floor.

"S-sorry," he stutters, but Jak shakes his head, standing up to move over to Daxter.

"You were having a nightmare, I just got back," Daxter wouldn't look him in the eye. He was pressing a hand to his stomach, looking at the floor.

"Dax, I'm sorry I should've turned the light on."

Daxter shook his head, leaning forward to put his head between his knees.

"Sorry," Daxter said again and Jak gets closer.

"You didn't do anything wrong. Is it okay if I touch your back," he asks, having learned his lesson from the bed.

Daxter nods and Jak cautiously brings a hand up to rub soothing lines up and down his friend's back. He could feel Daxter trembling under his hand, but doesn't say anything about it.

After a while, Daxter takes a few deep breaths and sits up to look Jak in the eye for the first time since waking up. Not sure what to do, Jak stills his hand, but leaves it on Daxter's back.

"I was in the stairwell," Daxter starts and Jak listens carefully, "I could hear footsteps behind me, but every time I reached a door it was locked and I had to keep going."

Daxter looks away again, absently running a hand up and down his wounded leg. Jak had ended up sitting next to him against the wall, and after taking a deep breath Daxter leans onto his friend. Jak moves his hand to Daxter's shoulder and pulls him closer.

"Sorry I hit you," he says, but Jak shakes his head.

"You were defending yourself."

Suddenly Daxter's eyes are watering, and he starts crying.

"Oh man," he huffs out, "I'm so embarrassed," he brings a hand up to his face.

"Shh," Jak whispers, repeating it in comforting tones. He runs a hand up and down Daxter's arm, holding him as he cries. He presses a kiss to Daxter's head. "How many times have the roles been reversed?"

Daxter wiped away his tears, his face hurt.

"Still," he says quietly, Jak moves his hand to rustle his friend's hair.

"Hey, let's go for a drive," Jak says moving to see Daxter's face, who looks back.

"Yeah, okay," Daxter sighs, "Help me up."

Jak helps Daxter back over to the bed to sit while he grabs their jackets and refills their water bottles. Daxter slips his boots on and tucks the laces into the shoes to avoid needing to tie them. Then he grabs his cane and Jak offers him a hand standing up. Daxter doesn't let go until they reach the garage.

The team has plenty of new cars, but Jak walks them to the Sand Shark. Jak offers him a hand getting in, but Daxter shakes his head climbing over the side and clumsily falling into the passenger seat. Jak huffs a laugh.

"Very smooth, Daxter," he climbs into the driver's side and starts the engine.

The Grand Championship brought more people to the desert than either of them had ever seen there before. There were established paths to the arenas most tourists didn't stray far from.

They drive into the night, the fireworks of the Yellow Eco Cup opening ceremonies had just begun, creating a light show above the arena. Jak takes them to a secluded spot in the desert where they could park and watch the fireworks in solitude.

He drinks some of his water, offering Daxter his.

"This was a good idea," Daxter says, taking the bottle before interlocking their fingers.

The desert was cold, but they keep each other warm.

By the time they drive back, Daxter's nightmare is a distant memory, replaced with a warm fuzzy feeling. Unfortunately when they make it back to their room, and Jak's helping him take his jacket off the memory returns, filling him with an apprehension of returning to his nightmare.

"Hey, are you tired," Daxter asks, and Jak raises his eyebrows.

"What did you have in mind?"

As way of answering Daxter pulls Jak into a kiss, it's slow and sweet, leaving him a little lightheaded when it ends. Daxter takes his friend's hand and walks them to the bed where he sits down, leaving Jak in front of him.

"Will you help me with my shoes?"

Jak nods and leans forward to kiss him. Daxter takes both of his hands and gently moves them to his lap, silently showing Jak where his leg was hurt. Jak takes a knee, running his hands down Daxter's thighs, and around his calves. He pulls Daxters boots off and lets them fall to the floor.

Daxter wraps a hand around Jak's shoulder, carding the other into the short hair on the back of his neck.

Jak runs his hands back up Daxter's legs, resting one on his knee and carefully sliding the other one closer to the knife wound.

"Does it still hurt," he asks and Daxter nods.

"It's not bad if you touch it gently like that."

"Is there anything else I can help you with," Jak asks.

"If you're careful you can help me take these off," Daxter says untying the waist of his pants.

Working slowly, and together Jak helps pull the soft pants off. Daxter pulls his shirt off over his head and tosses it aside.

"You should replace your bandages before we go to sleep."

"You want to do that now," Daxter asks, indignant.

Unfazed, Jak nods, before standing up and walking to the restroom. Daxter hears running water, and when Jak returns Daxter was leaning back with both hands on the bed, shaking his foot.

Jak lays out the green eco bandages Samos prepared earlier, along with two warm damp cloths, and two dry cloths before retaking his place between Daxter's legs.

"Are you sure you wanna help with this, Jak? It's pretty disgusting," Jak nods, before leaning in and kissing his leg below the bandage. "Alright, but if you don't wanna fool around afterward, I'll be serving I-told-you-so's for the next month."

Jak smiles at his friend, leaning forward to kiss his belly. Daxter shivers.

"Two months," he reaches for the bandage on his leg peeling it away from the wound. The green eco had been doing its work, but the trauma had been severe. He sucks in a breath when he sees it again.

"Gross," he says tossing the soiled bandage into the wastebasket.

Jak carefully cleans the wound with the damp cloth, before patting it dry. He gently lays the bandage over the cut, pressing it firmly to seal the adhesive. Daxter's toes curl with discomfort from the pressure, and he puts a hand on Jak's shoulder squeezing until the eco starts working and the pain ebbs away.

"Next one, huh?" He rests a hand over the bandage on his stomach and takes a deep breath.

Jak lays a hand over his, and Daxter looks at his friend. He recognizes that face, the one that says, "take your time, I'm in no hurry." It soothes some of his anxiety, and he begins the careful work of peeling the bandage off.

The gunshot wound was healing faster than his leg was, but the starting point had been much worse. It was nothing Jak hadn't seen before, but Daxter has to look away. He tosses the bandage into the waste bin and returns a hand to Jak's shoulder, already digging in his fingers from discomfort.

Jak slips a hand behind Daxter's back to hold him steady. As gently as before Jak cleans the wound with the second cloth, before patting it dry, and firmly sealing the bandage in place.

Daxter hadn't realized he was holding his breath until he let it out all at once. Jak leans forward and kisses his stomach again, then his thigh before gathering up the soiled cloth, and the wastebasket to walk them to the bathroom.

When he comes back it's to pull Daxter up off the bed, who whines in protest.

"You have to wash your hands," Jak says, and Daxter feels betrayed, by his best friend no less.

He wraps an arm around Jak's to support him as they make their way to the restroom where they wash their hands.

"Since you made the trip, you should brush your teeth too."

Daxter was aghast! His best friend! The betrayal!

He growls but follows the suggestion. He puts toothpaste on both of their brushes and hands Jak his. They clean their teeth in silence, and when they finish Daxter crowds into Jak's space to kiss him.

He works his hands up under Jak's shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it on the ground. Daxter walks backward a few steps to the bedroom, pulling Jak with him before he has to turn around to make it the rest of the way to the bed.

Again Daxter sits down first, and Jak sits between his legs. Jak presses soft kisses to Daxter's thighs, who leans away to lay on his back, laughing as he does.

"What's funny?"

"I think I'm too tired for this," and the admission makes Jak laugh too. He nips at Daxter's thigh with his teeth, before sitting up on the bed next to him.

"It was the tooth brushing that did it, huh?"

Neither of them can stop laughing, and Daxter wraps an arm around the back of his boyfriend's neck for leverage as the two of them move up the bed together. Once they're situated above the pillows, Jak gently smooths a hand along the bruises and cuts that still cover the redhead's face.

Jak runs a hand down, around the red marks on Daxter's neck then leans forward and kisses them. Kisses the cuts on his face, his bruised broken nose, his cut lip.

"I love you."

Daxter smiles, runs a hand down his boyfriend's cheek, pulls at his hair covered chin to kiss his lips.

"I love you too, ya sap."

After a while, they nestle under the covers and fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! It's the kidnapping fic I've always wanted to write.
> 
> Damas is alive! The reason why went something like this: 
> 
> Precursors: "Thank you, heroes, for saving the world yet again! There must be something we can do to repay you!"
> 
> Jak: "Yeah my dad just died!"
> 
> Precursors: "Wow bummer!"
> 
> Daxter: "He means like, fix that!"
> 
> Precursors: "Oh! Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. No problem, no problem."
> 
> Additionally! Daxter's jacket is for sure inspired by this illustration by Nicholas Kaye:  
> http://bluandorange.tumblr.com/post/122525287950/human-daxter-forever-a-shit
> 
> Go check out their art!


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